Tears: War of 1812
by Lilleth Smith
Summary: August 24, 1814: England and Canada plan an attack on America to get back at him for his treachrous behavior. Angst, fluff, and Hetalia! Warning: Kinda Sad  I suck at summary's sorry!


August 24, 1814

War of 1812:

Our feet pounded loudly as we ran down the cobblestone street. Windows and doors slammed shut, leaving nothing but an echoing _**bang**_ to follow us as we trailed off into the night. Candles that once cast warm happy glows in windows were harshly blown out to not attract attention to the residents fearfully shaking within.

It didn't matter though. Nothing mattered right now, except for one thing. One crucial important thing. We had to burn down his heart.

Eventually, after much marching and wrong turns, we came upon the building that loomed over us like the moon's shadow.

Next to me, Canada shivered nervously.

"Are y-you sure we should do this?" His violet eyes glowed with uncertainty in contrast to the inky blackness of night.

I knew what he was really asking. 'Can you do this?'

I don't blame him for asking. In the previous war, I had been unable to strike America down and end the war, in my favor at least. But this time was different. This time I knew I could do it.

After the war ended, I'd only grown to resent America further. And now, I had a new chance to get back at him for his treacherous and cruel behavior. This time, there was no holding back. I was going to crush him like the ungrateful prat he was!

America may have been my charge or brother or whatever he was, but now…now he was just my enemy. He was going to pay, right here, right now.

"Belt up lad. He needs to be taught a lesson. A lesson about who the real powerhouses of the world are."

"But last time-"

"Last time was a fluke! He just got lucky because I let my emotions take hold. A mistake that won't be made again."

He turned his brilliant gaze back to the empty manor.

"Whatever you say England." A hint of his prior disbelief lingered lazily in his tone, but it was easily brushed off. My past failure didn't mean a thing today. New war, new chance.

"MEN!" I turned to our combined forces, putting on a mask of total authority. "Tonight we light up the sky with American treachery!"

A cheer rang out.

"We're going in. Take what you want, do what you want, enjoy yourselves. In one hour meet back here and we'll set this accursed building ablaze."

A final cheer washed over us as the men galloped by, leaving Canada and I alone in darkness.

For a long time there was silence. Neither of us had anything to say. I attempted to sort out my mixed feelings.

"So…This is what you've stooped to."

I whirled around, surprised. Canada didn't even flinch at the unexpected arrival of our enemy.

His azure eyes burned with the utmost hate and malice at merely seeing us. Venom dripped dangerously from his words. A failed attempt to frighten us from finishing our task.

"Ah. Well if it isn't America! Look at you, you've gotten bigger. How nice."

It was true. His golden locks had gotten longer and acquired a slightly darker hue than before. His face and sapphire eyes had hardened and gotten colder. (Perhaps just from the situation he was in) He definitely wasn't the little boy who begged to sleep with me at night anymore. No, he looked like a real nation now. Interesting.

"Why are you doing this Britain? Why are you doing this to me? Why can't you just leave me alone!" Angry tears welled up in his eyes. My heart ached slightly and I cursed it for betraying me.

"Aw…Are you going to cry? Well belt up! This is the real world! The cruel cold world where countries like us attack and fight each other over the smallest most meaningless things! If you can't handle that, then you have no business being a country."

The anger radiating off of him intensified greatly. I relished it. It helped me forget the emotions rolling around inside my breaking heart. It was the Revolution all over again.

"America…"

"Matthew?" His head snapped toward the voice. In our little fight, America must have failed to notice him next to me. (It wouldn't be the first time he was forgotten though)

"You…You're with him? You're attacking me too?"

"England was right though." He turned and I gasped audibly.

Canada has always been a very quiet and passive person and never before had I ever seen him display any type of emotion with depth or intensity, but at that very moment, I was truly terrified. He was truly terrifying.

"You shouldn't have strayed, you should've just left well enough alone! What ever happened to not biting the hand that feeds you? Well you bit it and now you have to suffer the consequences. You're getting what you deserve. Accept it and move on."

"But…Mattie…"

"Don't call me that! I'm Canada! CANADA! Not Mattie, not Matthew. Canada!"

America's face shifted from despair to hatred once more.

"Fine. I hope you enjoy your taxes and being told what to do. I hope you enjoy just being another colony. You're not important to him. You're not important to anyone! You're just another territory he conquered and when you realize you're better off without him, don't come crying to me!"

"You know Alfred-"

"America! My name is America to you _CANADA."_

"Fine, AMERICA, enjoy having your capitol burned down you stupid annoying hoser!"

"I hate you both so much! I hope some other powerful country comes in and obliterates you both! I hope you die painful-"

"ENOUGH," I bellowed. The fighting was beginning to tick me off. "It's time you learned your lesson America." The entire time the twin nations had been bickering loudly, our soldiers had returned. Now that everyone was here, we could finish what we had started.

"Now! Do it now!"

One unknown man was the first to throw his lantern against the building, allowing others to follow suit. Eventually, someone's caught and the once dark manor was engulfed in white hot flames.

I smiled tightly. It was time to gloat.

"How does you're independence feel now America?"

I turned, expecting to see hate or anger glowing along with shock and even pain. I actually looked forward to it!

But, when I did turn, I found not hate, but a crushing sadness.

His crystal eyes were lugubrious. Tears flew down his cheeks and slammed against the cobblestones below like a salty rain. All anger had fled from him, leaving a broken shell before us.

He didn't look like an enemy anymore. He didn't even look like someone you could hate. He just looked broken. Broken and scared.

He looked horrifyingly like the little brother I once knew.

He stood up tall, but clutched his chest as if in pain.

"I hope you're happy England." His breathes came shallow and in short gasps. Tears still spilled down his cheeks. "This isn't over though. Not by a long shot. Don't think you've won. Canada…England…I hope…for now…you're happy."

This wasn't what I had imagined. This wasn't at all what I'd wanted. I couldn't and never would find any joy in his tears.

He turned away and disappeared into the dark.

I, having nothing else to focus on, turned back to my 'prize'. Canada watched me with a knowing grimace and horror in his eyes.

It most likely matched my own, but I was too numb to tell.

"So…are you happy now? Was that really what we wanted?"

"…Yes," I lied. But inside, I felt my heart shatter at the horrifying mistake I'd made.


End file.
